


irresistible

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bachelor Auction, Bondage, Champagne, Engaged Couple, F/M, Handcuffs, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Seduction, Sex Toys, Sex and Chocolate, Surprises, Temptation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Porn Battle XV; prompts: hidden, tender, tease, Chicago, candles. Ned does a favor while Nancy's out of town on a case, and ends up facing the strongest temptation he's ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	irresistible

When Ned was asked to do the favor, it didn't sound so bad, not the way he was asked. The bachelor auction was for a great cause—raising funds for a children's research hospital—and the people bidding on him were only promised a date. The date could be a movie or a value meal at McDonald's; it didn't need to be anything serious. But the auction itself was a nice event, so he pulled his tuxedo out of the back of the closet and made sure it was clean, pressed and ready to go.

Nancy didn't seem too excited about it, though. "So what if the girl's hot?" she asked, her arms folded. She was packing for an assignment in Brazil, her suitcase open on the bed as she considered what to take with her.

"So what?" Ned asked, then came over and looped his arm around her. He leaned down to kiss her temple. "My fiancée is drop-dead gorgeous."

"What if she's Angelina Jolie?"

Ned paused, and Nancy elbowed him in the ribs. "Ouch! Ouch! I don't care if she's Angie. I'll be good."

"'Angie,'" Nancy huffed, scowling. "Are you _sure_ you have to wear the tux? It's just that you look so fucking hot in it."

Ned shrugged. "It's what they asked me to wear," he told her. "Look, I think it's sweet that you're jealous, but I swear to you, nothing's going to happen. I just wish you could be there to bid on me. Then you'd definitely have nothing to worry about."

"I wish I could be, too—not that I would be able to win you. I've been to a few of these things. Gorgeous bored socialites with nothing but time and money on their hands and sex tapes on their minds show up..." She shuddered. "Ned, please, _please_ , if you see a camcorder set up anywhere near you..."

He chuckled and kissed her temple again, then hung his tux up on the back of the bathroom door. "I plan to be fully clothed the entire time," he assured her. "While we're at Park Grill chowing down on burgers and fries. I'll tell a few goofy jokes and thank her—or him, I guess—for the donation, and that will be it."

"Promise?"

He nodded firmly, and when she came over to him and tipped her face up, he kissed her hard. "Promise. Now, the sooner you get packed, the sooner we can get to making up for the time we're going to be apart..."

"So impatient, Nickerson," she chuckled. "Wanting to have the reunion sex before I'm even on the plane."

"And the makeup sex before we've even had a fight." He kissed her neck. "But I don't remember you complaining..."

Nancy was leaving Tuesday, and her return flight was late on Sunday night. When he dropped her off at O'Hare Tuesday morning, she confirmed with Ned that he would be picking her up from the airport when she returned, and gave him a long kiss. "I'll call you every day," she told him. "I love you so much, Ned."

He kissed her again. "I love you too, Nan. Have a safe flight, and stay away from any shifty characters, okay?"

She smiled. "I'll do my best. And try not to be _too_ handsome tomorrow night, okay? You know, that thing you do with your eyes..."

"You mean this?" He gave Nancy a smoldering look that made her tilt her head, her lips parting; then he leaned in and kissed her neck and earlobe. "That look?"

"Mmm-hmm," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "That look is just for _me_ , okay?"

"It definitely is," he told her. "All right, don't miss your flight—or I'll be tempted to skip work and take you home so we can make up for some more lost time."

She gave him one last kiss, then used the ball of her thumb to wipe the trace of her lipstick off his lips. "Love you."

"Love you."

The bachelor auction was scheduled for Wednesday night. Since parking at the location was a nightmare, Ned left his car at the apartment he and Nancy shared and took a taxi to the hotel. The front entrance was bustling, and Ned counted four towncars and three limousines on his way in.

One of the first people Ned saw in the ballroom was his mother. "Oh, Ned, you made it!" she called with a smile. "You look great. I'm sure you'll raise a lot of money tonight."

Ned chuckled, looking down at his tux. He had even shined his dress shoes. "That would be great," he told her.

"It's a shame Nancy couldn't be here." While their parents had initially been less than ecstatic about Nancy and Ned's decision to move in together, they had come around pretty quickly, and Ned's mother especially had been happy to help Nancy start planning the wedding. Besides, it wasn't like they hadn't been dating for a very long time. Their relationship had become a lot more stable once Ned had moved to Chicago after graduating Emerson, once he and Nancy had been able to date a lot more often. Nancy's acceptance of his marriage proposal had been the happiest day of Ned's life so far.

"She was really disappointed, too. If you ever have a bachelorette auction... well, strike that. With her luck, a deposed dictator would place the winning bid and she would be chased by hit squads the entire next week." Ned shook his head.

His mother straightened his tie. "I'm sure you're right, honey. I'll try to screen the audience to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you. Let me take you over to the check-in table."

Ned was given his participant ribbon, then instructed to mingle with the crowd. The women, and a few more adventurous men, in the audience were there to meet the bachelors who would be up on the auction block. A placard on the podium informed them of the equivalents. The coordinators had decided that a minimum bid of fifty dollars would earn a thirty-minute date, and had posted minimum bid amounts for an hour-long date, a two-hour date, a three-hour date, and a four-hour date. The price for a four-hour date was pretty steep, but it guaranteed enough time for a movie and a leisurely meal. Four hours was the longest possible date, even if the winning bid was double the minimum amount for it.

Ned looked at the people in the crowd around him and decided that four hours wouldn't be so bad with some of them—but he didn't think that he would be in danger of that kind of bid. He recognized many of the fellow bachelors, also pinned with their ribbons, even if it was only by reputation. One was a local millionaire who had inherited a company and had just divorced his second wife. Two played for the Bulls, one for the Bears, three for the Sox. Ned resisted the urge to go ask for an autograph or two.

Then Ned recognized Carson, and almost did a double-take. He was glad Nancy wasn't there to see it, although he was sure she was aware that her father was participating. Nancy was many things—brilliant, daring, and passionate to a fault—but she still wasn't comfortable with the idea of her father dating yet.

But it wasn't a date, Ned reminded himself. A one-time pleasant evening with a philanthropist. That was it.

Nancy definitely would have called the women in the crowd something else entirely. Many wore backless, skintight evening gowns; their gazes were glittering and assessing, looking for signs of wealth, affluence, and influence in the men up for temporary sale. The combined effect was enough to make Ned a little uncomfortable. Of course he had participated in similar events at Omega Chi, but those had been more casual, the stakes much lower. Sorority girls and co-eds had been bidding on the right to have Ned escort them to a campus dance, not an hour or two of uninterrupted time with him.

Several women walked up to him, from around his own age to above retirement age, making a note of his number on the brochure, and Ned realized that was why he had been asked to provide a head shot. He managed to sneak a peek at his entry and was relieved to see that his relationship status as an engaged man was listed, just so no one had the wrong idea. Other men were engaging in obvious flirtation; Ned was polite and charming, but he was careful to keep everything he said unambiguous. He definitely didn't want his future father-in-law to see him appearing to chat up any other gorgeous women. Two were blondes; one statuesque redhead in a flowing white and silver gown gave him the most impish look he had ever seen, and he had to laugh. Two were African-American, one was Indian. One girl reminded Ned of Bess; of all of them, she had the most sincere smiles, and he didn't feel like she was undressing him with her eyes. The cougars were the ones that discomfited Ned the most. The way they gazed at him... like they knew exactly what they wanted to do with him, and exactly how pleasurable it could be.

Then the coordinator called the men to line up near the stage. Ned noticed that the more desirable bachelors were spread evenly through the lineup, no doubt so bidders wouldn't leave until the end. The master of ceremonies thanked all the attendees, advising them to make sure their checkbooks were at the ready. Most of the audience seats were filled, but a crowd at the back still stood near the cash bar, chatting with each other. Ned's mother gave him a little wave, and he waved back at her with a smile.

When the first athlete up on the stage announced that he would sweeten the deal by offering an autographed jersey to the winning bidder, a guy at the back called that he wished he'd known that earlier. The rest of the crowd laughed. Many of them were drinking, but they probably didn't have to get up at seven o'clock the next morning to head to a full day of work.

Ned couldn't help making a mental note of what the other bachelors were earning. Those with any level of fame offered other perks along with the date, and were easily making the four-hour minimum bids. The guys who were, as far as Ned could tell, about equivalent to him were earning one-hour dates, with only two or three bids placed. Ned couldn't be completely sure, but he thought those winning bids were plants—and he wished again that Nancy had been able to come. He told himself that fifty dollars would be all right, deciding not to get his hopes up over the many women who had come over to speak to him.

Then the grinning local television personality serving as the night's master of ceremonies called Ned up to the stage, introducing him as a local eligible bachelor who would soon be off the market for good, and called for bids. Ned's mother raised her paddle first. "Fifty dollars!"

She only placed the first bid, though. Afterward that, other paddles were raised. Seventy-five dollars, a hundred dollars, one-hundred-fifty. Ned grinned, feeding off the excitement of it. Then a paddle went up at the back of the audience. "Five hundred dollars."

An excited hum swept over the crowd. "Five-fifty," the statuesque redhead called, raising her paddle.

The bids stopped at seven-fifty, and Ned recalled the bid conversion chart. A two-hour date. That would be all right.

Then the woman at the back stood up. "Five thousand dollars."

Ned's eyebrows went up. The redhead cast a glance back at the woman, a pout on her face. Ned hadn't seen the woman standing at the back of the crowd before. She had long glossy dark hair falling in loose styled curls down over her bare shoulders, and her dress was tight, molded perfectly to her torso and hips, then falling loose to her ankles. She looked both confident and determined.

"Fifty-five hundred," the redhead tried.

"Fifty-six hundred," one of the blondes called.

"Seven thousand," the brunette countered. Her voice was smoky and seductive, and had a ring of authority to it.

Ned's eyebrows went up again. He couldn't help it. One of the sports stars who had come up to the block so far had earned more, and one had also earned seven thousand, but that had been it.

By the end of the bidding war, the brunette was victorious, and Ned did the math. Although the prices of the dates didn't increase geometrically, but close to exponentially, the brunette's winning bid was three times the minimum amount for a four-hour date. She hadn't needed to go so high, either; she had topped the previous bid by two thousand dollars.

Ned walked to the table at the far side of the room in a sort of daze. The cashier was smiling as he accepted the brunette's check, presenting her with a receipt made out with Ned's name and the amount of time she had been guaranteed noted. Ned cleared his throat and the brunette turned to him; her gown had appeared black from the stage, but up close it was navy, and it clung to her like a second skin.

"Thanks for—for winning me, I guess," Ned said with a smile. "Ned Nickerson."

She took his hand and shook it, gazing straight into his eyes. "Mélanie," she said, and only then did he detect the hint of an accent. "I will call you so we can make the arrangements for our date. Your telephone number, _s'il vous plaît?_ "

Ned took the receipt she handed him and wrote his cell number on the back. "That's fine," he said. "You—you do know I have a fiancée, yes?"

Mélanie looked him up and down, an expression on her face that left him feeling more exposed than any other glance he had felt that night. "Yes," she said, her voice low and sultry, and then her gaze met his again. Her eyes were deep blue, but he saw very little humor there. "I will call you."

Ned was still feeling a little disconnected from reality when he checked his cell phone a few minutes later and saw a missed call from Nancy. He stayed for one more drink, then said goodbye to his mother and Nancy's father and hailed a cab.

"Hey Ned!" Nancy sounded very happy to hear from him.

"Hey sweetheart. Sorry I missed your call. The auction was tonight."

"I thought it was. So how did it go?"

Ned paused, trying to parse what had just happened. "Uh, it went pretty well—really well. I raised a lot more money than I thought I would."

"How much?" Nancy asked, and released a low whistle when he told her. "Damn. I _really_ couldn't have won you tonight, huh."

"Baby, you could _always_ win me," he told her, pitching his voice low. "But enough about that. How's the case going?"

Nancy sighed. "I have to track down a piece of missing artwork," she said. "I have a few leads, and I'm really hoping that I can solve the case in time to make my flight... but I might have to push it back a day or two."

Ned groaned. "Nan, really?"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I'm really sorry. I've missed you so much. I miss when you used to be able to come with me on cases... we used to have so much fun."

"We did," Ned agreed. "Not to mention how easy it was for us to share a hotel room without our parents finding out back then."

Nancy giggled. "And I guess that ship has sailed," she said. "Well, I'd better let you go. I'm glad you had a good time tonight; I'm heading to a—..." She cut herself off abruptly.

"A what, Nan? A bar full of surly alcoholic sailors, or a known mob hangout? Don't be shy."

"Neither," she said defiantly. "A stakeout. No problem."

"Uh-huh," Ned said, his voice full of doubt. "No problem at all. I would tell you to be careful, but I'd like to think I've said it so many times that you have it recorded in your memory."

"I do. Along with the sound of you breathing when you're sleeping beside me, and that sound you make when I do that thing you like so much..."

"Which thing I like so much?" Ned couldn't help it; he settled back in the seat, closing his eyes as he listened to Nancy's voice.

"Any of them," she said, and laughed. "I'll call you tomorrow. Love you, Ned."

"Love you, sweetheart," Ned said, and hung up with a smile.

When he walked into their apartment, his tie already loose, he toed out of his dress shoes and walked over to the computer. Nancy had sent him a picture she had taken earlier that day with her phone: a tall iced drink, a pair of sunglasses, and the beach behind them. The note beneath read _It's beautiful here, but it would be even better with a certain tall, dark, and handsome guy beside me. Love you._

Ned smiled when he saw it, replying to her message. _Very tempting. Love you too, Nan. Have a drink for me._

When he checked his social media page, he saw that she had taken a shot of herself in sunglasses and a wide hat and posted it so her friends could see it. _Brazil is fantastic! Wish my fiancé could be here with me._

She called him again the next day around lunchtime, just to let him know that she had survived the stakeout relatively intact. She called again on Friday at lunchtime, telling him that she had her fingers crossed about making Sunday's flight, but she would definitely call Sunday morning and let him know. She had a hunch that her main suspect was going to lead her right to where the painting was hidden.

Ned was just on his way out that Friday night to meet Mike, Howie, and Paul for drinks when his phone rang. The number was blocked, but he answered anyway, just in case one of his friends happened to be calling.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Nickerson? This is Mélanie. I am calling to arrange our date. Tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow evening would be all right," Ned said slowly, even though her tone hadn't been a question. "What time should I pick you up?"

"I will pick _you_ up," she replied. "I will have a car sent for you. Seven o'clock sharp."

_A car?_ Ned mouthed, flagging down a cab on the street. "Miss—Mélanie. We could just meet at the restaurant, if you don't want me to know where you live."

"Do you have any food allergies?"

Ned raised his eyebrows again. "No, but I have a strong aversion to olives," he replied. "Were you thinking about a particular restaurant? If you let me know what you like, I could try to recommend something."

"That won't be necessary. Are you allergic to latex, or do you prefer sheepskin? I can have both."

For the third time in his life, Ned did a spit take. He could only stammer for a minute, before he found his voice again. "I thought I made it clear that I have a fiancée," he said angrily. "This is just a four-hour dinner date..."

"Dinner was not specified," Mélanie said, her voice still crisp. Then it relaxed into a low, sultry purr. "And you do have a fiancée, but she's out of the country. Don't worry, whatever happens tomorrow, no one but you and I will know. Do you not find me attractive, Mr. Nickerson?"

"You're a beautiful woman," Ned said, unwillingly. "But my fiancée—I love her, and what you're implying is well out of the scope of the agreement."

"I was guaranteed four hours with you," she replied. "I would prefer several more, and I can promise you that you won't regret it. I paid a great deal of money for that guarantee, and when your girlfriend returns, you can tell her that we had that lovely dinner, that the meal was utterly delectable... you just might not want to tell her what was on the menu."

Ned flushed. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I will demand a return of my money, and you will have deprived a worthy charity. Seven o'clock sharp, Mr. Nickerson. My car will be on the street in front of your apartment house. I will see you at the destination."

Ned opened his mouth to retort, but realized the line had gone dead. She had hung up on him.

The cabbie was turned around in the seat, gazing at him. "Change your mind? Tell me an address or let me get another fare, mister."

Ned managed to choke out the address of the bar, then sat back. In the back of his mind he just kept chanting, _fuck, fuck_. He knew that he should just not show up—he couldn't call her back and cancel, thanks to the blocked number—but she was right. If she demanded her money back, he would be depriving the charity of it.

So he could go; he had resigned himself to going when she had placed the winning bid. He could last until eleven o'clock in the face of certain temptation...

Four hours. Four hours of temptation. Four solid hours of a beautiful woman offering him a night of passion, and Nancy would never know. Totally at her mercy, on her own turf.

Ned shook his head, remembering cases he had helped Nancy investigate. He had flirted with other women before, at Nancy's behest and with her blessing. Nancy had always been a little jealous after. He tried to imagine telling her about this, and how the blinding jealousy Nancy would certainly feel would turn into incredible, rough, reclaiming sex. She would need to put her mark on him again, to make sure he was hers. And they would laugh about it.

He tried to make himself believe that, but if he was in this situation... if Nancy had been up there on the stage, and a man had bid three times the amount to guarantee four hours with her. He wouldn't care if it was for a good cause. He wouldn't care about anything. He would insist on going with her—not because he didn't trust her, but because he wouldn't trust any guy who was apparently _that_ eager to be alone with her.

He could invite someone else to go along with him Saturday night. His mother would be a fantastic candidate. Or, even better, Carson Drew.

After his second beer, he told the other guys about the phone call and the situation. He wasn't exactly looking for advice; he already knew what the guys would say. He wasn't disappointed, at least not in his predictions.

"So the woman is really hot?" Paul asked, tapping his fingers lightly against his beer stein.

"Yeah. _Incredibly_ gorgeous." Ned shook his head mournfully.

"And you're _sure_ Nancy's going to be back Sunday, _not_ before. Definitely not before." Mike raised an eyebrow.

"I have her flight number. And she might not even be back Sunday; it might be after."

Howie shook his head. "She'll know," he said, with utter certainty. "I don't care what this chick told you, Nancy will figure it out."

"How? She's in _Brazil_ ," Paul replied. "Could there be a better setup?"

"I will say this, Nickerson—if you whip it out, you better make sure there are no cameras around." Mike nodded, as though he had ever been in a similar situation. "That would be the _perfect_ setup for blackmail."

"And how much did she drop on this 'blackmail' plot?" Howie asked.

Ned told them the number, and they all did their own version of spit takes. "Well, there goes that theory," Mike said. "She wouldn't drop that much unless she thought she could get _much, much_ more out of you."

"And she definitely can't," Ned confirmed. "I'm not planning on doing anything with her that I could be blackmailed over, anyway."

"Not _planning_ on it," Paul repeated. "But, y'know, if something... happened?"

Ned shook his head. "No. I could just walk out, if she started trying too hard."

Mike shook his head. "Just picture it. This incredibly hot woman. She takes you to a hotel restaurant, one of those really nice ones, and tells you that she's not wearing anything under her dress and she just _needs_ you..."

Howie elbowed Mike. "You had this fantasy for long, O'Shea?"

Mike flipped him off. "I'm just saying. You're engaged, but you aren't married yet. Nancy's out of town and a hottie is offering you a no-strings-attached fling on a silver platter. And you're going to walk away from that?"

"Boy, I bet Jan would be angry enough to set you on fire if she could hear you right now," Ned commented, lifting his beer again. Paul laughed.

Mike shook his head. "I'm not saying _I_ would take advantage of it... but I'm not saying I wouldn't be tempted. Anyone would be. Are you asking for advice, or just trying to make us jealous?"

Ned shrugged. "I'm stuck," he said. "I can't get out of this. I'd love to say no, but I don't want to take that money away from the charity. So at precisely ten-fifty-nine, I'll stand up, thank her for the nice evening, and walk away."

"And once you're off the clock?" Howie asked, his eyebrow raised.

Once he was off the clock, Ned decided, he would call his fiancée and tell her all about the evening, every detail. But he didn't want to upset her if nothing happened... and he had a feeling that if she knew what was about to happen, she _would_ be upset.

Still, a small seed of doubt had been planted, and Ned called Nancy when he reached their apartment after he had said goodbye to his friends at the bar. The call rang and rang, and Ned flinched. God, he hoped that she wasn't in the middle of something. If he had made her phone ring, and the sound had alerted someone she was following...

He hung up once the call clicked over to voicemail, without leaving a message. He had just pulled up the screen to text her when his notification pinged.

_Hey sorry can't talk. What's up?_

_Not much. Love you, miss you. Call me when you can?_

_Love you too babe. Will call - in morning OK?_

_Morning would be great. Stay safe, see you soon._

_I will. Love you._

Ned didn't sleep well that night. He couldn't. He kept waking up, waking himself up, imagining scenarios. Maybe Mélanie was a serial killer and once he climbed into her car, he would never be seen or heard from again. Maybe Mélanie would be in the back of the car, and she would immediately start working on him. Maybe the car would drop him off at some underground sex club. He had no idea. But when he woke up the next morning, he felt jittery and anxious, a pit of worry in his stomach. He knew that he had to tell Nancy everything. He knew he did.

When she called him back, she sounded fresh and happy. "I'm so sorry I couldn't call you back last night, but by the time I was free, I was sure you were asleep," she said. "What's up, honey?"

"Oh, you probably would have caught me awake," he admitted, his voice a little quieter.

"Oh no, Ned! Did something happen, or did you have trouble sleeping?"

"Couldn't sleep, but it's all right. You sound really happy, Nan. Case must be going well."

"It is! The curator of the museum and I found the artwork, but we still need to catch the guy—we don't have proof specifically linking him to it yet. Once we do, everything will be solved. I'm so excited." Nancy let out a happy squeal.

"That's great, honey. I'm happy for you."

"So that's why you called, just to get an update on the case? I think I'll still be able to wrap everything up in plenty of time so I can make the flight and you can pick me up tomorrow. I miss you so much, Ned."

"I miss you too... and I heard from the woman who won the date with me. We're going out tonight."

"Ugh. I wish you wouldn't say 'going out.' Or at least... I don't know, just tell me you won't have fun. I _hate_ the thought of you dating someone else."

"I'll make you a deal: no more bachelor auctions," he told her. "And I definitely don't want you to participate in any, either. But I just... I didn't want there to be any secrets between us."

"Neither do I," she said. "So you're going to McDonald's, right? Isn't that what you told me?"

"Not... exactly," he replied. "I don't quite know where we're going; she's picking the place. But I want you to know I'll be thinking about you the whole time. I love you so much, sweetheart."

"And I love you too, Ned. Hey, mind if I call you back tonight? That way if you're in the middle of your date, it'll give you a good reason to have to suddenly leave, if you need it."

"That's a good idea," Ned told her.

Nancy chuckled. "Girls do it all the time."

"Surely you never did that to me," Ned said. "Did you?"

"Oh, no. But if Bess was about to go on a date with a guy she wasn't quite sure about, George and I were masters of the scary fake phone call. So I'll call you, just in case. And, tomorrow, if I'm not too jet lagged..." She lowered her voice to a softly seductive drawl. "Maybe you can give me an extra-special welcome home?"

"You bet I will, beautiful," he told her. "You're one in a million, Nan."

She chuckled. "And you're the only guy in the world for me," she replied. "I love you so much, Ned. Now let me go solve this case so I can come home to you."

"Definitely. Love you too, babe."

All day long, Ned kept his phone close to him, hoping that Nancy would call him back, or even better that Mélanie would—to cancel their date. He worked out, made lunch, sat down to watch the afternoon game, but it was almost impossible to concentrate. He had just emerged from the shower and was briskly toweling his wet hair when he heard his phone ringing in the other room. He scrambled for it, finding that the caller's number was blocked. His heart started beating faster.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Nickerson," Mélanie said. "Dress code for this evening is semi-formal. The arrangements are in place. My driver will pick you up at seven."

Ned felt himself relax marginally. If he needed to dress up, then at least part of the evening would be around other people—and he might be able to engineer it so the entire evening was witnessed. "So we'll be going out?"

"For a brief time," Mélanie said, her voice a low purr. "I will see you in a few hours, Mr. Nickerson."

Forcing himself not to think about it, Ned finished drying his hair, shaved, and splashed himself with a bit of cologne. He dressed carefully, in a dark suit and tie and dress shoes. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he almost cringed, but he forced himself to meet his own eyes.

_No matter what happens, I'm not going to do anything that could jeopardize what I have with Nancy_ , he told himself. _Nothing that will make me ashamed to look myself in the mirror in the morning. It's four hours. I can get through four hours._

But he wasn't at all sure he could, when he slid into the backseat of the limousine to see the empty backseat, the driver behind an opaque panel. He tried to tell himself that he had been in much worse situations before, when helping Nancy with cases, but it didn't help—especially when the words _serial killer_ crossed his mind again.

He jumped when his cell phone rang, but he saw Nancy's face on the screen and answered it. "Hello?"

"This is your emergency call," Nancy told him, a smile in her voice. "If you need to fake a scenario, then I'm your Aunt Millie, calling to tell you that I'm home alone and I just fell on the kitchen floor. I want you to come get me."

"Ooh. A little premature, Nan, I'm afraid."

"Wow. It's a little after seven there, right? I would've thought you guys would be ordering appetizers at this point."

"Not quite. On the way there now. She, uh... she sent a car for me."

"Damn," Nancy murmured, sounding more serious. "Please tell me it's a beat-up twelve-year-old hatchback."

"No, you're thinking of my first car. This... is actually really nice. In a kind of creepy way."

"Creepy?" Nancy immediately latched onto the word, and Ned had to laugh.

"Not in a mysterious way... well, kinda, honestly. I'm alone in the car except for the driver, hoping that I'm not being driven to my death."

"Well, why don't I stay on the phone with you until you get to where you're going? That way I'll be able to send the cops to where you are if I don't hear from you again tonight."

"Wow, thanks, Nan, way to make a guy feel better about possibly meeting a black widow for dinner and some light poisoning."

"Sorry," Nancy said, but she chuckled. "No, seriously. Do you get that kind of vibe from her? That she's maybe a little unhinged?"

Unhinged wasn't the word. Horny was. "Not—not really, but it's always the ones who seem normal that you have to look out for."

"Very true."

Ned caught himself shaking his left leg in nervousness. "So the case still going okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be stopping by the police station in the morning to fill out a little bit of paperwork before I get on the plane. God, I can't believe I'll be able to see you in just about a day. I've really missed you, Ned."

"And I've missed you," he told her, as the car rolled to a stop. He peered through the tinted window. "Okay, we've just arrived. The hotel is..." He read off the name to her. "Got it?"

"Got it. I'll call you back in a little while just in case you still need that emergency call. Love you, Ned. Try not to be _too_ handsome, okay?"

"I'll try," he promised. "Love you, Nan."

The chauffeur opened the door for Ned, gesturing for him to emerge. "Mademoiselle is waiting in the restaurant on the top floor," he stated.

Ned put himself on autopilot, noting the opulent, plush hotel lobby absently as he found the elevators and headed up to the restaurant. It was just the way Mike had said—and Ned prayed that the rest of the evening didn't play out the way his best friend had predicted.

Ned had barely had time to catch the maître d's attention when he saw her. Mélanie was seated at a small two-person table, her intense gaze fixed on him, candlelight dancing in her eyes. She didn't even have to beckon him over. He crossed to her, feeling incredibly conflicted.

And she looked just as alluring, just as seductive, as she had at the auction, even more so. Her gown was a deep rich red, the neckline plunging to reveal a generous amount of cleavage, and the tiny sequins embellishing it shimmered with her every breath. Her lipstick matched the deep color of her dress, and brilliant chips of light adorned each earlobe. She radiated sex, but it was more than that—she was fully aware, almost teasingly so, of her own seductive power, entirely in control and in her element, and she looked at Ned like a cat would the mouse caught in its paws.

"Mélanie."

"Mr. Nickerson," she said, gesturing for him to take the other seat at the table. "I've taken the liberty of ordering the first course: oysters on the half-shell." She regarded him through long black lashes. "I need you well-fortified for the evening... and in the right frame of mind."

Ned smoothed his tie. The entire room felt too hot. "This certainly is a beautiful hotel."

Mélanie propped her chin on one hand, her long nails polished red. "It is," she agreed. "My room here is even more beautiful. But we will have time for that."

Ned swallowed hard.

She kept doing that. She kept casually mentioning that they would continue the evening in her room as though it was a foregone conclusion, as though he would under no circumstances say no. And Ned knew that even if he chewed every bite a hundred times before swallowing, even if he managed to spill a drink on himself and use that as an excuse to leave, she would still turn it into a reason for him to come to her room. And then he would be caught.

With his every breath he silently prayed that Nancy would call and give him some insanely good reason to leave.

On any other night, Ned would have been pleased by the hotel restaurant staff's incredibly quick service. On that night, Ned just wished that they would screw an order up, give him a reason to send something back to the kitchen to be reprepared, just to buy him some more time. But his steak with crab remoulade was excellent, and Mélanie pronounced her duck confit absolutely to die for. She offered Ned a bite, and he turned it down; she looked altogether too intent when she gazed at him.

Their conscientious waiter reappeared after their plates had been cleared, asking if either of them had saved room for dessert. Ned's stomach was a solid ball of anxiety, and he was still listening for one ear for his phone to ring, but he would happily have ordered another four-course meal if it meant staying in the restaurant and out of her room.

"Dessert sounds magnificent," Mélanie said, her sultry voice turning every word into a double entendre. "We will have it in my room—a slice of the chocolate cheesecake with raspberry drizzle, to share." She cast another low-lashed gaze in Ned's direction. "And you may charge the meal to it as well—seven-twenty-two."

Ned's eyes widened. The meal on top of her donation for the evening was definitely too much. "Ah—"

Mélanie gave the waiter a dismissing smile, and he departed with a small bow. "Now, Mr. Nickerson," she said, "I believe we have two hours and twenty... let's see, twenty-six minutes remaining. I will require ten of those to make sure my room has been adequately prepared for tonight. I will expect you there in eleven minutes. Seven-twenty-two." She quirked an eyebrow up. "If you fail to appear, I will view that as forfeiture of our agreement, and will act accordingly."

She began to push her chair back, and Ned shook his head. "Miss—Mélanie," he said desperately. "We could go dancing, to a bar, something. I just... I really don't feel comfortable going with you to your room. Anything else you can think of..."

Mélanie raised one silky eyebrow again. " _Anything_?" she repeated, her voice low and sultry, and Ned felt himself flush.

"Almost anything," he amended.

Her lips curved up in a wide, almost predatory smile. "My bid won four hours with you and not a minute less," she replied. "I wish for us to pass the remainder of that time in my room. If, at eleven o'clock tonight, you wish to leave, I will not stop you. But I will consider it a failure of my own prowess if you do." She gently drew her fingertips down from her collarbone to the shadow of her décolletage. "Ten minutes, _s'il vous plaît?"_

Then she produced a keycard, sliding it to him across the table, and Ned waited for her to pull her own hand back before he reluctantly accepted it.

Once she had left the restaurant, every swing of her hips calculated, Ned gulped down the rest of his ice water. He would have to go to her room, and he prayed that Nancy would call him as soon as he walked in to fake that emergency. In fact, Ned picked up his phone and considered setting an alarm that would go off in fifteen minutes, one he could use to fake a phone call.

The waiter came by again. "Will sir require a cup of coffee before his departure?" he asked, raising his own eyebrows faintly. "Mademoiselle certainly did not seem to think the night would be ending soon."

Ned bit back his initial retort. "No, thanks," he said, looking down at his phone again.

After eight minutes, Ned rose from the table and found the restaurant's bathroom, going to the sink and splashing cold water on his face. He made the same vow to himself when he looked at his reflection. Nothing that would betray his fiancée's trust. Nothing that would make him hate himself in the morning.

But he was terrified of what was going to happen when he walked through that door. He had never in his life faced temptation as strong as this.

His phone rang when he was in the elevator, and at first Ned thought he had miscalculated. Then he saw Nancy's face on the screen.

"Now is it time for your emergency call?" she said as soon as he answered her call.

"God, you're about fifteen minutes too late," Ned groaned. "Oh God, Nan. I... she invited me to her room for dessert."

He was cringing before she even responded. " _Dessert_?" she said, her voice sharp. "Oh _hell_ no. If that dessert involves something lace and satin... but of _course_ it will." Nancy was seething. "God, I _knew_ this was going to happen. You're fucking irresistible, Nickerson. Find her license, okay? Get her name and her info. As soon as I get back to the States, I'm going to find her and rip her apart with my bare hands."

"Hey," Ned said, trying to soothe her. "Hey, there's going to be a slice of cheesecake, and then—why don't you do the emergency call thing in about ten minutes? That would be perfect. I'll—I'll make some excuse. She keeps saying that she paid for four hours with me, but I'll find a way out of that—"

" _Four hours_? How much time have you already spent with her?"

"Uh, a little over an hour and a half. Dinner."

"God. They really were pimping you guys out, huh."

Ned made a soft sound. "Look, I'm almost at her door," he said. "Ten minutes, okay?"

"Ten minutes," she agreed. "And if that bitch has her hands on you, you tell me so I can make sure she learns her lesson and never touches another committed guy again. I love you, Ned. Please remember that."

"And I love you," Ned told her. "I mean that, with my whole heart. I love you so much."

He ended the call, then slid the phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath. Ned couldn't believe how nervous he still was as he knocked at the door. He heard no answer, and swallowed hard as he reached for the keycard and slotted it into the lock.

The room was absolutely gorgeous, and it was only the sitting room of the suite. Gleaming, polished hardwood floors were spread with plush rugs; the velvet curtains were all drawn, save the one over the center picture window. The walls were cream and gold, and soft music played from the next room, almost too softly for him to hear. Ned saw a bucket of ice on a small high table, a bottle of champagne in it, a covered tray with a covered plate beside it. Then Ned looked at the plush overstuffed couch, and he almost gasped aloud. He was pretty sure he was in shock at that point, and he didn't want to see it, but he couldn't seem to make himself look away.

He saw three sets of handcuffs, bottles of massage oil and lubricant, a leather cat o' nine tails, a blindfold. He saw a dildo, too, then realized it was a strap-on, and he was pretty sure his heart stopped then. He saw other toys too, ones he had never personally used—anal beads, butt plugs, cock rings. Vibrators with attachments.

He was about to call Nancy and beg her to move their timetable up to _immediately_ when he heard a noise in the next room of the suite, what he presumed was the bedroom. His wide-eyed gaze rose to that door. God, he couldn't do this, he just couldn't. He had been willing to try it out until he had seen all this.

She walked in wearing incredibly high stilettos, and Ned was speechless as his gaze rose from the tips of her toes, over her silk stockings, the thigh-highs banded in lace at her upper thighs and held up with ribbon garters. Her panties were minuscule, and just visible beneath the hem of an unbelted whisper-sheer black robe. Her corset was red and black satin, fastened up the front, so tight and low-cut that with every breath, her breasts appeared at the point of spilling out. Her dark hair tumbled loose down her shoulders, and she wore a black satin mask trimmed in lace. Her hands were on her hips. Ned's internal temperature spiked twenty degrees just at the sight of her.

"Mélanie," Ned began, shaking his head. He could hear panic in his voice, and he was almost stammering with nervousness. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't do this."

She took a step toward him. "Even if it means my taking back the money?"

He took a deep breath and nodded, only bringing his gaze up to her face when he absolutely had to, trying to ignore the shapely scantily-clad curves on display. He tried to make himself calm down, but he was desperate to get out of the hotel room before something happened that he couldn't explain to Nancy. "Yes. I'm sorry, I can't. My fiancée—I can't."

She reached up, drawing her fingertip lightly from her collarbone down to her décolletage again, to the first hook of her bustier. "But she won't know," she said. "I can guarantee you that. She will never know."

"And maybe you're right," Ned said. "But I'd know. And I could never do that to her."

She shook her head. "You really are the last good guy, aren't you," she said softly.

Ned reached for the doorknob. "Thank you for dinner. It was very nice. I'm sorry."

He had just turned when she called from behind him. "Wait," she said, and even though he didn't want to, even though he was afraid of what he would find, he turned around to see her reaching for the mask. She pushed it up, then grasped the wig and pulled that off, tossing out her reddish-gold hair.

"Surprise." She grinned at him.

"Nan!" Ned gasped out, shaking his head. "Holy _shit_. Nan!"

He crossed the space between them in three long strides and swept her off her feet, and she giggled when he picked her up. "That wasn't you in the restaurant..."

"No," Nancy agreed. "It wasn't. She's an actress. I called in a favor to bankroll her; I hoped the donation would be high enough to win you..."

Ned pulled back to look into her grinning face. "Shit. I can't believe you. I mean... it is just the two of us, right?"

"Definitely," she said. "Why, what were you thinking?"

Ned laughed. "You want to know what I was _really_ thinking? That I should probably beg your father to come with me tonight, just so he could see how much I definitely was _not_ flirting with my date. Oh my God, I can't believe it's you, that you're back! So you lied to me _how_ many times today?"

She giggled. "A lot, actually. Well, I didn't really _lie;_ I just... adjusted the timeline a little." She ran her fingers through his hair. "God, I missed you so much."

"And I missed you," he told her, tipping his head and giving her a long hard kiss. "So all that stuff on the couch... is everything in here a prop?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no," she told him, her eyes sparkling. "Definitely not. The champagne is real; the cheesecake and chocolate-dipped strawberries are real. And all those sex toys on the couch are definitely real. The room is ours for the night."

"What kind of favor did you call in?" Ned asked in some awe, raising an eyebrow.

"A good one," she smiled. "Now I think you should show me how much you missed me, Ned."

"God, Nan. I'm still in shock, I guess," he murmured, putting her down and looking into her eyes. "All night I've been on my absolute best behavior, and then to see you standing there, looking like an incredibly hot dream come true..."

"Mmm-hmm. I noticed how afraid you were to look at me while I was wearing the mask."

"Can you blame me? I was uncomfortable as hell even walking into this room. But believe me, I'll take advantage of the view now..." He smiled when she struck a pose, holding the robe apart so he could get the full effect. "But this was a test, wasn't it."

Her grin became a smile. "I didn't want it to be," she said. "I just wanted to surprise you."

Her blue eyes were sweetly anxious and sincere, and Ned reached for her hand. "And you definitely surprised me," he told her. "You just practically gave me a heart attack."

"Well..." She took a step forward and used her free hand to brush a speck of lint from his shoulder. "I have you for the next two hours, but if you want to make a deal and... take control, after that?" She raised her gaze to Ned's eyes, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. "To make up for all I just put you through."

"Oh, it wasn't like that," he told her. "But if you're in the mood for that, I'm not going to turn you down. I will say that if you use that whip on me, for every lash you give me I'll give you one."

"Hmm. Anything I give, I get?"

Ned glanced over at the toys again, then shook his head. "Definitely not," he murmured, then nuzzled against her neck. "Because there are some things over there I think you'd definitely enjoy, that I wouldn't."

"Mmm." She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her throat, his hands resting on her hips. "But you're mine until eleven..."

Ned moved back to look into her eyes. "Technically, yes," he said. "But I really do owe _you_ four hours of my undivided attention, not just the rest of this date. So tell me what you want, beautiful."

She smiled at him, then glanced down and back up into his eyes. "I want you in control," she admitted softly. "I want you to take me to bed and strip me naked, cuff me to the headboard and fuck me until I can't take it anymore. Fuck me with your tongue, your fingers, those toys... and when I'm begging you for it, fill me up with that big hard cock and make me come again."

Ned swallowed hard. "You drive me crazy when you do that," he told her, his voice low. He touched her chin, tracing his fingertip down the line of her throat, over the hollow of her collarbone, down to the swelled curve of her breast as it quivered above the corset. "You drive me so fucking crazy. Listening to you scream and cry out my name while you come... aching to slide into that sweet wet cunt and feel it all tight and hot around me while I pound into you."

He hooked his thumb under the edge of one boned cup, sliding it down so her nipple was exposed, and she let out a sigh. "And I love it when we fuck until you're hard again," she moaned, peering at him through her lashes. "When you fuck me so long and hard that I spend the next day feeling it. When being at work and running errands feels like the dream, and seeing you again feels like coming awake."

He unfastened the first two hooks of her corset, and she let out a long sigh as her other breast was loosed. "For you, beautiful," he murmured, then leaned down and kissed her left nipple. "You and only you, Nan... I'll see what I can do."

He lifted her into his arms and she giggled as he nuzzled against her breasts. "Can I make one more request?" she asked breathlessly.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Dessert in bed."

He carried her to the bedroom, putting her down on the bed, then returned to the sitting room. Dessert was on a small cart, or at least he hoped the covered trays were dessert and not some other strange surprise. He brought in the champagne too, pouring out the flutes while she took the covers off the plates. Several large, luscious chocolate-dipped strawberries, drizzled with white chocolate, were arranged on one chilled plate. Ned was happy to see two forks and _two_ slices of chocolate cheesecake on the other plate.

"Now, now," he told Nancy. "I'm serving you. So here's your champagne, beautiful," he said, handing it to her. "Don't lift a fork."

With each bite of cheesecake he fed her, he unfastened another hook on her corset. Once he had slipped it off, he unfastened each of her garter clips, then the belt, and slid her stockings down her smooth, shapely legs. She had finished her slice of cheesecake, and then Ned picked up one of the strawberries. The chocolate had softened a little while it had been sitting out, but it was still cool. She opened her mouth obediently, but Ned brushed it against her chin, then dragged it from her collarbone, between her breasts, down to her belly button. It left a faint trail, and he popped the berry into his mouth before he kissed her lips, then her chin, licking the chocolate off her skin.

She giggled, squirming as he did. "Hand me one," she requested once he had swiped the last trace of it away, and he obeyed. She brushed the chocolate shell on the strawberry against Ned's chin, then swirled it over each of her bare hard-tipped breasts, sighing a little at the sensation. He smiled when her legs parted a little.

"Oooh. I don't want to mess up your shirt," she murmured.

"Well then. Let me help," Ned suggested, as she popped the berry into her mouth. She moaned with pleasure when he lowered himself to her and drew her nipple between his lips, suckling against her and stroking the sensitive flesh with his tongue. When he moved to the other, he guided his hand between her legs and began to gently ghost his fingertips up and down the crotch of her minuscule panties, and she arched her back.

"Mmmm. God, that feels so good," she sighed. " _Mmmmmm..._ "

"Somebody ready to get cuffed and fucked within an inch of her life?"

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, then ran her fingers through his hair. "God, I am so hot and wet for you right now."

He went to the sitting room and scooped up everything on the couch, to save time later, and dumped it all onto a large overstuffed chair in the corner. The soft music she had turned on was still playing, and Ned sorted through everything with new eyes. He hadn't even been able to think about it when he had believed Mélanie was the one asking if he wanted to use them. Now, though, with Nancy...

He went to the marble and gold bathroom and found a large, plush bath sheet. "Sit up," he told Nancy, and then he spread the towel over the center of the bed.

"On your belly."

One of the toys was a vibrator with a clit teasing attachment, a corded remote control attached. Ned waited until Nancy had obeyed him and rolled onto her belly, the towel under her. He brought the massage oil over to the bed, moving her hair to the side before he poured some onto his palms.

He massaged her bare back, starting at the nape of her neck, working his way over her shoulder blades, her biceps, her spine, the small of her back, and she kept moaning in pleasure. He could sense her tightening when he barely moved his fingertips beneath the elastic band of her tiny panties. They were what Nancy called demi-thong; the cheeks of her ass were pretty bare, but the panties provided more coverage than a thong or a g-string would have. Then he moved her panties down, wiping his hands before he grabbed the vibrator.

"On your knees, gorgeous," he told her, and she began to push herself up. She was totally naked, and he loved the sight of her, the golden light playing over her skin. "Open your legs a little."

She hung her head, obeying, and she hissed when the head of the vibrator touched the slick tender lips of her pussy. "Ohhh... you really want to start with a bang, huh," she moaned, and he saw her toes curl as he pushed the entire length up inside her slick cunt.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured. "I'm gonna let that keep you warm for a little while, beautiful. Now lie back down..."

She obeyed, keeping her knees spread, moaning again. "Fuck," she sighed. "Oh God, oh _fuck_."

Before he even touched the controls, he cuffed her wrists to the headboard and she shivered. He could see her hips gently rocking as she ground against the vibrator buried between her legs, and she shuddered when he touched her again. He massaged her ass and her upper thighs, feeling her undulate under his touch, then reached for the vibrator and pushed the control up a little to start it.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, the bedsprings creaking as she shifted. " _Mmmmm_ , so good."

She was the first girl he had ever loved, truly, helplessly, and he was the only man who had ever slept with her. She had fooled around with other guys, but he was the only person who had ever seen her like this: naked and vulnerable, flushed with arousal, completely uninhibited. He wiped his hands again and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off. Then he moved over her again, slipping his hands under her to cup her breasts and squeeze her nipples.

"Mmmm! Oh _fuck_ ," she moaned. "Oh God, _faster_..."

He had her flip over and held the vibrator between her legs, increasing the vibration until her humming moans became sobs, building into screams. He propped the base of the vibrator against his thigh to hold it in place as he arched over her to suckle and tease her nipples, keeping one hand on the vibrator controls, and he lost count of how many times he brought her to sobbing climax, her hips jerking, the cuffs jingling faintly as she shuddered. Watching her come, watching her orgasm while a toy buzzed and filled her slick pussy, was like watching porn in person, and he loved it.

She knew that, too. The first time she had ever let him watch her masturbate, it had been with a caveat: it was either that or he could continue to watch porn, and he had to choose. She let him pick the toy, and then they had discovered the joy of her multiple, almost unlimited orgasms.

Watching other women like this... he had been doing it for a long time, but he knew that it upset her. She was intensely jealous of his sexual attention.

And that made him think that, consciously or subconsciously, she had set up tonight to see if he really wouldn't stray, even given the perfect opportunity. When she had first found out that he watched porn, she had accused him of wanting to be with other women, and she had been terribly upset. No matter what his friends had said, though, what he had told "Mélanie" had been true. He would never jeopardize what he had with Nancy, because he would never, never love anyone the way he loved her.

Nancy was panting for breath when Ned finally turned down the vibration on the dildo and gently slid it out of her. The toy was gleaming and slick from her arousal, and she groaned as it dragged against her sensitive inner flesh. "Mmm," she moaned. "Oh _yes_ , baby."

"Oh yes is right," he told her. "Open those gorgeous legs wide, sweetheart. The night's only just started."

She obeyed him, and he cuffed each ankle to the bedframe, leaving her sprawled wide open. He took off his pants and underwear, then knelt between her thighs, thrusting two fingers up into her slick cunt until she trembled and cried out, then wrapped his fist around his cock and stroked her arousal over his shaft as he licked her clit.

"Mmm," he murmured. "God, I love the way you taste... but this would make it even better..."

He grabbed another strawberry, and Nancy shuddered as he rubbed the chocolate-dipped tip of the fruit against her clit. "Oh God," she moaned, and he knelt down again to lick the chocolate off the slick pink nub. She panted and moaned as he did. Then he bit the strawberry, just the tip of it. He repeated the motion, rubbing the edge of the berry against her clit, making her shudder, then brought the berry to her lips.

"Take a bite, beautiful," he said softly, and she met his eyes as she took a bite of it, the fruit and chocolate and her arousal on her tongue. Ned shivered, then ducked down to lick her clit clean again.

He had to stop touching himself, or he was never going to last. He rubbed a chocolate-robed strawberry against her inner thighs and licked the traces off; he ate her out until she was screaming, her hips thrusting desperately as he rubbed his chin against her clit. He fucked her with his fingers and his tongue, suckling and licking her clit, switching hands when his fingers cramped. He rubbed another berry against her nipples and suckled against them as he settled on top of her, her skin slick with sweat. She rolled her hips, arched her shoulders and her back, writhing against and with him. She sobbed; she begged him, she cursed at him, she screamed his name at her climax.

He gave her a moment to recover, pushing himself up to pick up his champagne flute and drain it. "Thirsty?"

"Mmm," she sighed. Her eyes were closed, her entire body relaxed. But she tilted her head up, opening her eyes, and he slowly tilted the flute to give her a small sip, then another. She coughed, then collapsed to the mattress again.

Ned chuckled. "Don't tell me I already wore you out."

"Mmm. In a good way," she murmured. "God, that was so good. I still want you, though. _Please_."

"You're so greedy," he teased her, moving on his knees so he was in position over her. "I don't know how many times you just came..."

She gave him a small smile. "I am greedy," she whispered. "I can't have enough of you, Ned. I never have. I hated sleeping without you this week. The case was good... but it's just not the same when you aren't with me. I love you so much."

He kissed her gently. "And I love you," he murmured. "I hate sleeping without you, too... my beautiful Nancy."

She shuddered when he began to move inside her, angling her hips. "Oh," she moaned. "Oh my _God_..."

"Yeah," Ned groaned. She felt perfect, tight and slick, and he pressed his lips to hers in a hard lingering kiss as he moved fully inside her. Then he slipped his hand between them.

She sobbed as he brushed his fingertips over her clit, crying out his name. "Oh—keep—yes yes _yes yesssssss_..."

It was tempting, to suck at the pale column of her throat until he gave her a hickey, but Ned resisted. He set up a regular rough rhythm inside her, her body rocking as she accepted his thrusts, and he nipped gently at her neck and shoulder. She canted her hips back and forth as he rubbed her clit, her every breath another gasped cry.

"Oh my _God_ ," she sobbed out, as he made his next thrust longer. "Oh _fuck_..."

She was already supporting her weight on the balls of her cuffed feet, angling her hips up to make his penetration easier. He pushed himself fully inside her, then reached for a pillow and propped it under her hips, and she relaxed against it, using the leverage to bounce against his thrusts. She shuddered, her blue eyes gleaming as she gazed up at him.

"Mmm," he murmured. "Holy shit, baby. You feel so good."

"So do you," she groaned. "Holy _God_."

She cried out when he rolled her nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, grinding against anything that would tease her clit. He missed the feel of her wrapping her legs up around his waist to draw him and force him closer; he missed the feel of her digging her nails into his back, the way sometimes she would jolt her hips and roll him over and take control of their lovemaking. But he had always, always loved sex with her. He had loved sharing a bed with her before they had taken that step in their relationship, and he had always loved the intimacy of being with her. He hadn't denied any of himself to her, and slowly she had begun to trust him enough to do the same.

He made love to her until there was no divide, no barrier, until his control began to slip through his fingers and the pleasure of being inside her was too much. He could feel her quivering under him, her warm breath against his ear as she sobbed in pleasure, and they moved together until they seemed to exist only to feel the ecstasy of it. She arched under him and he slid his full length inside her, holding himself there as he finally, groaning, let himself come.

Then he collapsed to her, his weight cushioned on her, and she was still trying desperately to catch her breath. He reached down, once he was able to muster the strength, and pulled the pillow from beneath her hips; she slumped to the mattress, still panting.

"Mmm. Shit," he murmured.

"Mmm-hmm," Nancy agreed, and Ned heard the handcuff chains jingle faintly. "Fuck."

Then Ned smiled. "Get your money's worth, sweetheart?"

"Holy God, yes," she sighed. "That was _incredible_."

"You bet it was," Ned murmured. He slid out of her and used the towel still under her to clean them both up. Then he found the key to the cuffs and freed her wrists, then each foot. She was still sprawled on the bed when he had unbound her, her eyes closed, though she had brought her arms down, her hands resting on her belly.

"Nan," he said softly. She opened her eyes, and when her gaze met his, she smiled.

"Come here," she murmured, and Ned obeyed her. He laid down beside her, resting on his side, and she cuddled against him, sighing as he slipped one knee between her legs. "Mmm. God, I'll be lucky if I can move again before checkout time."

He stroked his fingertips lightly up and down her spine, her skin damp with sweat. "This is not at all the way I thought tonight would be," he murmured, then kissed her forehead. "Not at all."

"Mmm-hmm. You thought you'd be in bed with a beautiful stranger," she said softly, a smile in her voice.

He moved down and kissed her lips. "I thought I'd be in bed alone," he murmured. "On the phone with my fiancée, telling her all about the date I'd had with that beautiful stranger... and hoping that she would come home and rip my clothes off, reminding me of what I would never forget."

"And what is that?" she murmured, gently stroking his hair.

"That I belong to her," he murmured. "Just as surely as she belongs to me. I would never do anything to risk what I have with you, Nan. You're the only woman in the world for me."

She kissed him gently. "I didn't even think about it," she whispered. "I didn't. But after you said that... I can't imagine what I would have done, if you had told me that you were going to sleep and wished me a good night, and then come to this room expecting to be with someone else. It would have broken my heart." She kissed him again.

They made out, slowly, lazily, until his fingers were in her hair and she was partially pinned under him again. When he broke the kiss she let out a long sigh, closing her eyes, her lashes brushing his cheeks.

"I think we should celebrate," he said, nuzzling against her. He brushed his lips against her skin. "We have champagne and strawberries left. And a lot more time to kill in this great hotel room. So, future wife..." He smiled at her when she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Can you think of anything we should do?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, and when she opened her legs, he was almost expecting it. She gripped him between her thighs, pushing his shoulder so she could roll him onto his back, and her eyes were dancing when she looked down into his face.

"I can think of many, _many_ things we should do, handsome." She leaned down and kissed him, settling against him, and he groaned as he wrapped his arms around her. "Starting with me licking chocolate off that gorgeous cock of yours, and seeing how you like it."

Ned groaned again, kissing her hard. "Sounds perfect."


End file.
